The Mistake
by Ember Nickel
Summary: It could be the Yeerks' most manipulative scheme yet, and that can only mean one thing: Ax and the Animorphs have to stop it. But when they do, their cover is blown...
1. Chapter 1

My name is Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.

This might suggest to you that I am not a human. In fact, I am a member of the Andalite species. In my natural state, I do not resemble a human at all. I am a blue-furred quadruped with four eyes, a bladed tail, and no mouth.

It would be very nice to always have a mouth.

Nevertheless, I have been a human on many occasions. Biologically, I am equipped with the morphing power. It allows me to biologically transform into another species, at least for temporary durations. My human friends have allowed me to absorb their DNA, so that I might become a mixture of all of them.

Sometimes it is very pleasant to be a human. I enjoy the great sensation of human tastes. Humans have produced many wondrous foods. The glorious cinnamon bun! The unparalleled chocolate bar! The exquisite cigarette butt, whose like cannot be found in seven light years!

My human friends tell me that cigarette butts are not good for eating. I obey them, but it is difficult. Some of these human rules do not make very much sense.

While it is pleasant to use the morphing power to become a human, I much more frequently must use it for things that are not pleasant. This is because I am part of the resistance to the Yeerks on Earth.

The Yeerks are a species of parasites that come from yet another planet. They invade the brains of their hosts, or Controllers, and take them over. "Controllers" is a misnomer—they are the controlled. They cannot move, they cannot speak, they cannot communicate with the outside world in any way. It is the Yeerk that does everything.

They have conquered the dangerous if dimwitted Hork-Bajir. They have conquered the horrific Taxxons. They have conquered the Gedds of their pitiful home planet. But they have not yet conquered us Andalites. Only one Andalite has fallen victim to the Yeerk Empire. He is under the control of the Yeerk Visser Three. It was Visser Three who murdered my brother, Prince Elfangor.

They have not yet conquered the human race. It is my human friends and I who must stop them. They, too, have the morphing power. But it is not easy. There are only six of us in all, now, and they are all children. I, too, am only an _aristh_ by my people's standards. I am a long way from home, though, and rank does not matter so much. My own rank, that is. I follow Jake, who is our Prince. He says he does not want to be, but he is.

The other "Animorphs", as they call themselves, include Marco, Jake's friend. He is an expert at human humor, a special dialect found in many human languages and even among Andalites. It is rather like simple folktales, which use untrue statements to convey high-level messages. I think.

Jake's _cousin_ (the child of someone who is the sibling of one of your parents), Rachel, is also an Animorph, as is her friend Cassie. Sometimes Marco calls Cassie a "tree-hugger", although humans do not hug trees. Nor do they have _Garibah_. Sometimes, however, Cassie comes into close contact with other animal species. Actually, all of us do; it is only through physical touch that we can acquire the DNA of other species. Once this is accomplished, we can morph into these animals, temporarily becoming them. This power had only been available to Andalites, but my brother gave it to these humans as well.

Stay in morph too long, however, and you are trapped in the body of the animal you morph. This is what happened to my _shorm_, my best friend, Tobias. He was born a human, but now is a red-tailed hawk, a type of Earth bird. Through the intervention of an Ellimist, he is allowed to morph like the rest of us, but must always return to his hawk body after two hours.

We are the only ones who can fight the Yeerks.

While it is difficult to tell who among humans is a Yeerk, we have identified some of their schemes and destroyed many. Some remain in place, like The Sharing. While it calls itself an organization for humans to interact, it is really a means of identifying possible host bodies. Some weak-minded humans voluntarily permit Yeerks to inhabit their brains.

But besides The Sharing, many Yeerk ventures have been stymied. No matter how hard they try to blend into normal human society, the Yeerks make mistakes.

So do we.

This is the story of when we went wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

(Author's note: Thanks first off to everyone who's been reading this! More people have it on alerts than I expected for such an utterly boring first chapter. Glad you enjoy. Secondly, this should probably be obvious, but in case it isn't, the opinions of both canon and original characters are by no means mine! Whether it's about sports or far more serious fare...just don't read my opinions from the characters' mouths. And lastly, I must disclaim once again, I have so many opportunities that fanfiction languishes once again near the bottom of my priority list. This goes double for The Skrit Na Chronicles. So I can't promise when future updates will be. I appreciate you sticking with me anyway, though! If you want to see what else I've been up to, just click "homepage" from my profile.

Oh, and double parentheses are thoughtspeak, due to this website being made of fail. That is all.)

I was relaxing in my scoop on a summery morning, finishing breakfast. Nourishing grass flowed through my legs until I was quite full.

I trotted over to the television that my human friends have helped me set up. The television is a device that provides for fascinating insights into human culture. It was too early for the fictional portrayals of humans interacting with each other and provoking a wide range of emotions. It was time for "the news," which consisted of several humans talking to each other about things that had happened recently. Humans talk by using their mouths.

The news is frequently interrupted by my favorite program, "These Messages." As I turned it on, however, it was still news. Specifically, the weather portion of the news.

"Well, it's sunny outside today," said a human on the television. _Yes, it is,_ I inwardly thought. _Even you primitive humans have ascertained this? Congratulations!_

"It looks like there will be some clouds later in the week, but they should clear up. In the long-term, there's a growing risk of straight-line winds, but we'll keep you up to date as we learn more."

Then, it was time for These Messages! The first of the messages extolled the virtues of a particular style of human food called the hamburger. The creators of These Messages are like me—they truly appreciate food and are not ashamed of proclaiming it to the world. My human friends are a bit less enthusiastic.

The second message described an institution that dealt with the movement of human money. Money is somewhat like the dimensions of Z-space in that neither has a purpose in the actual, physical universe. Nevertheless, sentient beings frequently make use of both in order to achieve tangible aims.

The third message promoted a type of human medicine. Bright, large human words displayed on the screen, followed by very small and dull ones. I was not able to interpret all of them, as they disappeared too quickly. It would not take much work, however, for me to reprogram the television in order to be able to replay the messages. Then I would have time to go back and look at the small words, or simply revisit the glorious images of human food over and over again. I decided to make that my afternoon project.

The next message featured short segments from a fictional depiction of human reality that would be broadcast in several days. This involved humans firing primitive though effective human weapons at each other, while a deep voice intoned exceptionally vague sentence fragments. I believe the aim of this was to confuse viewers so utterly that they would have to watch the show to understand what he meant, though I am not certain of this.

And then These Messages were over, and it was back to the human news.

"With all the talk of crime and unemployment," smiled a female at the desk, "it's easy to overlook the unsung heroes who, day by day, make the world a better place."

"And a local group is doing just that," said the man next to her. "The new Starrise Center is already improving the lives of dozens of families."

"Amy got the story for us."

The screen changed to a human house. A child was inside, taller than my friends but seemingly about their age. A woman stood next to him, while another woman's voice played above their image. "Every mother is thrilled when her child begins to speak."

"Hel-lo," said the boy in the house, stiltedly.

"But for Christine Maust, this was a very special day."

The television showed the woman from the house, speaking directly into the camera. "I, I just can't believe it," she stammered. "I never thought this day would come."

"When Joshua Maust was two years old, he stopped speaking."

"I was shocked, he'd been such a healthy little boy. None of the doctors knew what to do."

"Joshua was diagnosed with autism, a communicative disease that strikes at young children."

"He went through special ed, all these different programs. Nothing seemed to help."

"But then, Starrise Center opened."

"I mean, we were exasperated by now, ready to try anything."

The image of a large, elaborate building in a secluded valley came on screen. "Starrise Center is a new facility for autistic children. After two weeks of living there, Joshua could greet his mother for the first time in over a decade."

I then saw a relatively aged human man. "We're very fortunate to have some very talented professionals working here. Our behavior analysis is breaking new grounds, and I think you can see that in some of our successes so far."

"Dr. Leonard Salveson is the founder of Starrise Center."

"Obviously it's far too early to be presumptuous, and I do my level best to caution against that, but we're cautiously optimistic that we will continue to carry out our mission."

"Christine Maust would certainly agree with Dr. Salveson. And now, Joshua can speak his own approval."

"Thank you," droned the child, eyes seemingly fixated on a point on the floor in front of the camera.

"And thank you, Amy," said the news anchor.

I watched eagerly, hoping for more messages, but the reporters appeared more interested in informing us that one group of humans, affixing odd artificial hooves to their feet in order to maneuver on top of frozen water, had forced a small object into a certain area of the frozen water more often than another group of humans had forced it into another area. I believe this is vaguely similar to driftball, although I am utterly uninterested in investigating the matter.

((Interesting story, huh?)) said Tobias, hovering above me.

((You understand this?)) I gestured towards the screen, where the humans were engaging in a crude form of physical combat on top of the water.

((Not really,)) he answered, amused. ((I was thinking about the one before.))

((Oh.))

((Kids are taken from their families and live in some weird place, then come out weeks later thinking and talking completely differently?)) he pressed. ((Doesn't that seem weird at all?))

It took me a few moments to understand what he meant. I was not familiar with the context of the broadcast, but slowly, I put the pieces together. ((You don't think...?))

((Yeah, Ax-man, I do.))


End file.
